


The Way to a Hobbit’s heart

by Guardianofrivendell



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Get ready for the cuteness, M/M, Sassy Bilbo returns, Thorin is secretly a softie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28156941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Guardianofrivendell/pseuds/Guardianofrivendell
Summary: When Bilbo enjoys a nice afternoon walk in the Shire, he notices a smell... A rather foul smell, if he was honest. When he comes closer to his home, the smell seems to intensify. It couldn't come from his house now, could it? Because Thorin was home.... Alone. Oh dear!
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 6
Kudos: 37
Collections: The Hobbit Discord Server’s Holiday Gift Exchange 2020





	The Way to a Hobbit’s heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Misfit-with-a-pen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Misfit-with-a-pen).



Bilbo always favored late afternoon walks over morning strolls.  
Though he knew most of his neighbors wouldn’t agree with him and probably would think of him as even more peculiar than they already did if they knew, he just couldn’t help himself.

You see, it was the way the sun hung low in the sky, giving everything it shone upon a warm golden glow. Furthermore, as most of the hobbit community was too occupied prepping the most important meals of the day, the town was practically deserted.  
This meant Bilbo could enjoy the beautiful sceneries in peace without having to get involved in friendly banter and polite greetings. And finally - the temperature was nor too warm or too cold, which was just perfect.

But there was nothing better than an afternoon walk in early spring. Birds were building their nest, flying past his head with twigs in their little beaks.  
It reminded him of that one time a thrush had landed on Lobelia’s straw hat and had absolutely wrecked the damn thing. It took her a while to notice and Bilbo had had the greatest difficulty in keeping a straight face. She went running through the Shire afterwards, screaming about a vicious bird attack.  
Since that day he couldn’t help but snicker every time he saw a thrush.  
Yes, Bilbo loved his walks indeed. But he loved his home just as much. 

It wouldn’t be long before any respectable Hobbit started working in their garden again after the winter break and every yard and patio would get overflowed with a soft and subtly sweet flowery scent.  
It wasn’t any different in his garden.  
The flower buds of the early bloomers were starting to show, some of them already in their lovely, bright colours. Just a few more days and he could bury his nose in the daffodils, tulips or primroses, taking in their flowery scent. 

It was a moment Bilbo looked forward to every single year, but now he could finally share it with his husband Thorin.  
To everyone’s surprise, this grumpy dwarf had warmed up to the art of gardening. Under Bilbo’s patient supervision, they were able to turn their neglected patch of land into the beautiful garden it was today. 

Bilbo smiled to himself at the thought of his husband.  
He came a long way to get here... Both of them did. Literally and figuratively.  
Thorin had been under a lot of stress for a long time without barely any chance to breathe: the rebuilding of Erebor, restoring trade agreements, bringing his people back to the mountain, … It never stopped and he was close to getting a burn-out.  
Bilbo had seen it coming from miles away and had raised the alarm on Thorin’s health. Bilbo’s home in the Shire proved to be the perfect place to get a much needed break from ruling a Kingdom. 

The mountain was in good hands with Fíli and Kíli as his advisor - Balin was still there to keep an eye on them - and the peace and quiet of the Shire was wearing off on Thorin. He was finally able to relax and enjoy the time with Bilbo.  
Even so, they couldn’t stay away forever and they’d made plans to return to the mountain before the annual Durin’s Day celebration. 

That didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy the time that was still left. Bilbo continued his way on the path that would eventually lead him back to his home, he stopped when he smelled something odd.  
He sniffed a few times, tilting his head sideways. What in the…? 

Bilbo couldn’t tell what the smell reminded him of, and yet it somehow seemed familiar.  
Was Lobelia trying to burn down her house again with another attempt at copying his famous rabbit stew?  
The closer he got to his home, the stronger the scent became. It couldn’t come from his house now, could it? Thorin was home so nothing serious could have happened.  
Bilbo’s eyes widened. 

Thorin was home… alone. 

“Oh dear,” he murmured.  
Thorin was not yet entirely used to living like a hobbit, still adjusting to life in the Shire. The more delicate, joie-de-vivre way of life that suited the hobbits didn’t always go well with the sturdy, rather head-on approach and maybe a tad brute way of the Dwarrows. He definitely wasn’t the domestic type. Yet.

Bilbo hurried up the lane to his front yard, struggled to open the gate in his haste and made his way inside. When the door closed behind him, it felt like someone had slapped him in the face.

Oh yeah, the smell definitely came out of his house. He coughed a few times, and his eyes started to water. He completely missed the leftover trails of smoke near the ceiling, and that was maybe for the better. 

“Thorin?” he squeaked between coughs. “Love?”  
No answer. Was he even here? And what was that pungent smell? It almost smelled like an onion died a painful death and was left to rot! But with added spices.  
Now he almost wished it was Lobelia’s cooking instead...

He left the entrance hall and stepped further into their home, making his way to the study. If Thorin was home, he would probably be there.  
Bilbo hoped to find his other half hunched over a book, or too focused on writing a letter to his nephews to hear his calls. Not that he didn’t trust Thorin to find his way back home on his own… okay fine, maybe he didn’t. 

Before he reached the study, his eye fell on the pantry. A rare curse escaped his mouth.  
Empty jars, most of them tipped over, crumbs and pieces of vegetables on the ground together with a puddle of liquid that Bilbo wasn’t too keen on investigating further.  
He stood frozen in the round doorway. What had happened?

Flashbacks of that one fateful night when the company had barged in - uninvited might he add - and raided his kitchen and pantry flooded his mind.  
Could they...?  
No, he shook his head. It was too quiet for the company to be here. Plus Thorin would have mentioned it. There were no secrets between them. Not anymore. 

He crossed the hallway and entered his kitchen. Or rather, what was left of it.  
If he thought his pantry was raided, it was nothing in comparison to his kitchen.  
There were dirty pots and pans all over the place, as if the dishes hadn’t been done in weeks. Most of the cabinets were opened, the contents of the shelves in disarray or scattered over the counter. A lot of food made it to the floor as well, and it seemed like someone had tried to clean it up by shoving it to one side of the kitchen. 

It looked like Thorin had tried to make something for dinner. Or a snack maybe? At least, he hoped it was Thorin who wrecked the kitchen. Because there wasn’t a single hair on his feet that would even consider cleaning this up himself!

“Thorin, I really do love you but you got to learn to clean up after yourself,” Bilbo muttered in frustration when he picked up a dirty kitchen rag from the floor.  
“I’ll keep that in mind,” a low voice sounded behind him. 

Bilbo swirled around and he forgot to breathe for a second.  
There, in the doorway of the dining room, stood Thorin in just his dark blue tunic and black breeches, barefoot and an apron tied around his hips. A towel carelessly thrown over his shoulder and a casserole in his hands made it look like he belonged in a kitchen. But Bilbo knew better.

The dwarf himself looked like a complete snack. If it wasn’t for the state of the kitchen and the foul smell still filling his nostrils, he would’ve jumped him without a second thought.  
No, scratch the snack! His husband was a full five course meal. Bilbo took a deep breath. And by Durin’s beard, was he hungry...

Thorin lifted the pot a little. Bilbo stepped out of the way so he could pass.  
“It just needs a little more time on the fire.”  
It didn’t. It really, really didn’t.  
That became abundantly clear when Thorin lifted the lid so he could stir in what looked like stew, and Bilbo had to grab the counter to steady himself.  
Oh, well, at least now I know where that smell comes from, he thought. Breathe through your mouth, that’s the key!  
“You know, if you didn’t like my cooking, you could’ve just told me,” Bilbo joked while he took the pot off the fire again in an effort to save what could be saved, but not before he put the lid back on. “I think this is done, love.”

“Are you sure?” Thorin chuckled. The sound reverberated in his chest and it made Bilbo’s stomach flip. It was one of his favourite sounds and it still did something to him every time he heard it.  
“I wanted to repay you for taking such good care of me,” he said. “So I made us dinner.”

“You did?” Bilbo asked, endeared by the gesture but honestly, also a little afraid for his life by now. “Marvellous!”  
“Go and take a seat at the table, I’ll be right there,” Thorin hummed and he gestured towards the dining room. 

When he entered the dining room Bilbo froze, stunned by what he saw.  
Thorin had set the table beautifully and had paid extra attention to details, the way Bilbo liked. Freshly picked flowers from their garden stood proudly in a white porcelain vase, napkins neatly folded on the right side of the plate and he had used Bilbo’s mother’s pottery. He really went out of his way for this.

Thorin came out of the kitchen and placed the pot in the middle of the table and wiped his hands on the apron. His eyes fell on Bilbo who still stood a bit to the side. 

“Is it not to your liking?” Thorin asked, a slight tremble in his voice. “If it’s about the mess in the kitchen, I promise I’ll clean it up later.”  
He was nervous, Bilbo realised when he looked at Thorin. The King under the Mountain who could face multiple armies with only twelve companions without a second thought or hint of fear was almost shaking with nerves because he had made dinner for his lover. It was adorable. 

“It’s lovely, Thorin. Really, it is,” he assured him, while Thorin pulled a chair from under the table so Bilbo could sit down. “I didn’t expect it, that’s all.”

Thorin quickly made his way to the other side of the table and filled the mugs with ale and the glasses with wine.  
Bilbo however, eyed the food on the table cautiously.  
To be fair, from a distance it looked decent. There were carrots, mashed potatoes, other vegetables that he couldn’t quite name at first sight but seemed okay, bread,… And the pot of stew.  
On the corner of the table stood a bowl of what he suspected was some kind of gravy, but the chunks in it made him doubtful.  
He took some of everything on his plate and tried to keep it together when the aroma of the stew filled his nostrils once more. 

Thorin looked at him expectantly.  
The things one does for the one they love, Bilbo thought while he took a deep breath and tried the stew. Oh dear, it tasted exactly like it smelled!  
He tried to swallow it as fast as he could without a lot of chewing. His hand flew to his glass of wine and with a large gulp of the red substance his food finally went down. 

“Is there something wrong?”

“No! No, it’s… well, it’s a little hot,” he explained. That wasn’t exactly a lie.  
He tried to find the correct words to let him know cooking maybe wasn’t his strong point, but decided to change the subject instead. “Have you heard from Fíli yet?”  
Thorin shook his head. 

“I did not. It hasn’t been that long since I sent my last letter. Give him some time.”  
He took a sip from his glass of wine. “But tell me about your afternoon, did you enjoy your walk?”

Bilbo was relieved he could talk for a while - and avoid taking another bite - and told Thorin about his walk and how he was planning on asking old master Worrywort what he did to his wood poppies to get them so big and bright.  
While he was listening intently, Thorin took a first bite of his homemade stew.  
The minute he closed his mouth, his eyes widened and he almost choked on the meat.  
He let his fork drop on the plate with a loud clatter, a fist against his lips while he tried really hard to swallow the food.  
Bilbo didn’t know whether to laugh or feel sorry for him. He decided on a neutral expression, like it was the most normal thing in the world for a person to choke on a spoonful of stew. 

Thorin brought the napkin to his mouth and wiped the tears out of his eyes, still panting from the effort.  
“ _Mahal_ , why didn’t you say anything?” he groaned.  
Bilbo eyed him carefully, not wanting to hurt Thorin’s feelings. He worked so hard to prepare all this, well, you couldn’t exactly call it food…  
“About what?” he tried, gathering his courage and taking another spoonful.  
"The food! I saw you eat it!" Thorin murmured, his face distorting in absolute horror as he watched his husband trying his best to process another bite. ‘Please don’t. I can’t believe you want to take another bite!’

“You made this for me, of course I’m going to eat it,” Bilbo said, smiling at him. _Please don’t make me eat it again_ , Bilbo pleaded internally.  
“To be honest, I don’t even think Bombur would touch this,” Bilbo added.  
“That bad, huh?” he laughed. “Who am I kidding, of course it is, I tasted it. I still taste it!”  
He took his mug of ale and chugged it down in one go. When he placed it on the table again with a thud, his expression had changed into defeat.  
‘I know you love your meals and this isn’t…’ he rose from his chair. ‘This is not a meal worthy of any hobbit, let alone Bilbo Baggins.’

With the majesty only a true dwarven king can muster, Thorin strode from the dining room towards the kitchen. Bilbo shuffled in his seat, pondering what had happened before hurrying behind his One.  
The sight that greeted him made his heart clench. Thorin had started cleaning up the mess, his back to the door, head low and shoulders slumped. Bilbo could see he was distraught and clearly wounded in his pride. 

In a few strides Bilbo stood behind his husband and threw his arms around him, giving a little squeeze.  
‘Don’t you ever think what you do isn’t enough. The fact that you went through all this trouble for me, means more to me than you’ll ever know,” Bilbo mumbled into Thorin’s neck before he placed a featherlight kiss there, which elicited a groan out of the King’s chest.  
Thorin turned around and wanted to return the favor, but Bilbo stopped him.  
“No, no, no, Thorin. First we need to clean up this mess. I’ll help you.”

After an hour of cleaning, they sat on a spotless kitchen floor, looking over their work proudly.  
“We make a great team, you and me,” Thorin said.  
Bilbo rested his head on Thorin’s shoulder and sighed contentedly.  
“Can you promise me one thing though?”  
“What’s that?” Thorin wondered.  
“Please leave the cooking to me?”

THE END


End file.
